


Come Close (Let Me Warm You)

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [14]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink, Sharing a Bed, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “Fine.” John pushes himself up from the couch, starts towards the small kitchen. “I promise the same. A temporary stalemate.”“It’s called a ceasefire, you idiot.” Rook calls after him, ignoring John’s snarled response in favor of peeling his boots and socks off now that they don’t feel frozen to his feet.





	Come Close (Let Me Warm You)

“This is absolutely ridiculous. I should _kill_ you for getting me into this situation.”

“John,” Rook doesn’t bother looking up from the fire he’s stoking in the fireplace, trying to ensure it’s burning enough to last the night. “I’m going to give you one more chance to shut the fuck up. Or I’m going to beat you to death with this poker.”

John goes stubbornly silent behind him, compliant mostly because Rook’s tone had likely showed just how willing he was to do just that. He is _done_ with Hope County. Done with the fucking cult, done with the animals that chase him every single time he so much as scratches his balls in the forest, and done with the weather that seems to change on a whim.

John isn’t even supposed to _be_ here. If he’d behaved like Joseph’s good little pet, kept his ass in the Holland Valley instead of pursuing Rook into Jacob’s territory, into the mountains, Rook would be alone right now. In a dingy little cabin that’s doing very little to protect from the absolute fuckton of snow Mother Nature had dumped in the Whitetails. 

He’s cold and he’s wet and he’s more than a little bruised because John is an opportunist and likes to grapple. And if John says one more word he might actually follow through and start swinging. 

“How long until we can safely travel?” John asks quietly after Rook’s gotten the fire to a comfortable blaze, settling back on the rug to warm his toes. 

“Daybreak. You don’t go running around the forest at night when you can’t see whatever animal’s planning on making you a snack. And you really don’t do it when it’s snowy and you can go ass over elbows at any moment.”

“Fine.” John shifts behind him, cloth against cloth. “Are you going to try and kill me in my sleep?”

“Are you?” Rook glances over his shoulder; sees John scowl at him from his perch on the dilapidated old couch. “No. I’m going to go to bed and I’m going to pass out and if anything tries to hurt me, sure, I’ll react violently. But I’m not an asshole, John. I won’t kill you in your sleep.”

“Fine.” John pushes himself up from the couch, starts towards the small kitchen. “I promise the same. A temporary stalemate.”

“It’s called a ceasefire, you idiot.” Rook calls after him, ignoring John’s snarled response in favor of peeling his boots and socks off now that they don’t feel frozen to his feet.

Fuck. He’s going to have some wicked blisters in the morning from running through the snow. They’ll go nicely with the shiner he can feel forming from where John sucker punched him when he lost footing in the snow. 

He sets his boots as close to the fire as he dares, peeling them open so the insides have a chance at drying, before climbing to his feet. John’s making noise in the kitchen, humming and talking to himself under his breath. Rook ignores him for the most part--just because he’s not going to kill him doesn’t mean he has to be buddy-buddy with a man who once tried to drown him. 

Ah, nearly frozen, stale cereal. His favorite dinner. 

Rook leans himself against the counter, stares out the window as he eats handfuls straight from the box. He never was a fan of corn flakes, but they’re better than hunger for dinner. John can’t seem to find anything--probably because the cabin doesn’t have salmon egg caviar or champagne or whatever else high-class shit John probably is used to eating--and Rook hears him stomp off with a sigh.

It’s still coming down, heavy enough to make him worry. The amount of snow on the ground initially was a problem, if this keeps up it threatens to trap them both for a while. They’ve got enough firewood stacked in the corner and the food seems like it hasn’t all gone bad--but Rook’s not sure the ceasefire will last if he has to spend extended amounts of time with John’s constant bitching. 

He’s just the sort of guy Rook would have dated--which makes it worse. Because his hindbrain is telling him the best way to shut him up is to fuck him and the last thing Rook needs to do is make his entire existence in Hope County worse by sleeping with one of Joseph’s twisted Heralds. Especially the one that would _not_ keep it a secret and would probably make another stupid recruitment video about how Eden’s Gate can provide _everything_ a person is looking for.

With stupid heavy-handed hints and probably Rook tied up in the background, most likely shirtless and with John’s name carved into his chest or something equally absurd.

“Deputy?” John calls from the single other room, a note of horror in his voice. “We have a problem.”

“I know.” Because Rook was smart and cased the house when they first tumbled through the door instead of throwing himself onto the couch like a pouting teenager. “It’s fine. We can share.”

“ _Share?!_ ”

“Unless you intend to sleep on the floor.” Rook turns as John stomps back into the kitchen. “I just ran across two territories trying to keep your crazy ass from killing me. I got snow up to my knees. I’m sleeping in that bed.”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“Then I guess we’re sharing.” Rook shrugs, shoves another handful into his mouth. “Hope you don’t snore.”

John might not snore. What he does do, however, apparently, is sleep with very little clothes on. Which Rook finds out when he makes his way into the bedroom an hour or so later, after John had stomped towards the bed snarling something about being asleep before he could consciously decide to do this, and pulls back the covers to see a hell of a lot of inked skin and not a lot of clothes.

And a pair of bright blue eyes that look like they could burn a hole right through him if John just focused a little harder.

“You do know the fire won’t keep us crazy warm, right?” Rook points out, dropping his jacket by the side of the bed before climbing in. “It’ll heat the house, but it’s not well insulated and it’s a room away. You might lose more important bits if you insist on sleeping in your boxers.”

“Body heat.” John snaps before harshly turning away from Rook, nearly yanking the covers out of his hands as he does so.

Rook rolls his eyes, reaches down off the side of the bed to pull his knife from his jacket and stuff it under his pillow. He settles onto his back, tries to ignore the way his body is tempting him to huddle closer to the only other source of warmth. There’s something very Pavlovian about the way his cock twitches, like it knows Rook only shares a bed with someone he either has fucked or is going to fuck. 

Fuck. Tonight’s going to be a long night. 

Or, rather, amazingly short, Rook realizes when his eyes pop open what feels like minutes later. He carefully lifts one arm, shakes his watch to see that it’s only been roughly two hours or so and glances down at the form plastered to his side. John’s curled into him, one thigh slung over his and one arm wrapped around his ribcage, the other protectively held against his chest. It’s a nice sort of warmth, but not exactly one he wants.

Especially since his cock has gone from thinking there’s a possibility of sex to taking the closeness of another body as confirmation and is straining behind his zipper. Ridiculously close to where John’s thigh is. One hitch and he’s going to feel it.

He’s pretty sure John Seed’s enough of an annoying slut he’d be able to tell he got someone hard in his sleep and wake up solely to give Rook hell for his sin. 

Rook shifts; tries to see if simply moving will make John roll away. It doesn’t, actually makes him cling tighter with a murmur Rook can’t make out under how loud his heartbeat is in his ears. He tries to force next, wraps his fingers gentle around John’s wrist to pull his arm away. Rook knows it’s a mistake the second John grunts, yanks against his hold, and hears the sharp inhale when he instinctively pulls back and wakes him up. 

“Deputy.”

“I woke up and you were half on top of me.” Rook lets go of his wrist, tries to keep his voice low and even. “I’m not your personal body pillow, John. Fuck off.”

“You heretical--Oh.”

“You were on top of me.” Rook reminds him through gritted teeth as John tenses his thigh, like he’s trying to confirm what’s under it is what he thinks it is. “It’s a normal response. Fuck off back to your side of the bed.”

“How utterly Hallmark movie of you.” John sneers. “You have to share a bed with someone and you wake up hard? How utterly cliche.”

“Not nearly as stupidly cliche as being the one who goes octopus in his sleep.” Rook shoves an elbow towards John, hits something soft that makes the other man grunt. “Get off me.”

John doesn’t. Doesn’t move at all, either closer or further away. Rook tips his head aside eventually, after it doesn’t seem like John’s going to do _anything_ but use him for a cuddle buddy. John’s eyes meet his but there’s a distance there, like he’s not seeing Rook, too deep ins his own thoughts. Rook knows what’s coming before he even parts his lips, can read it in the way his pupils dilate and he slowly shifts against him.

“Absolutely not. We’re not fucking because you’re bored and I’m hard. Blue balls aren’t a thing, I’ll sleep it off, go _away_ , John.”

“I’ll leave you be.” John spits, a touch too fast, too needy. “I’ll leave in the morning, go back to the Valley. I won’t even tell Jacob you’re here.”

“Why?”

“My reasons are my own.”

“Not very convincing for someone who’s trying to get into my pants.” Rook wriggles, tries to get comfortable with the way John’s thigh is pressing his zipper down into the sensitive bulge of his cock.

And offers John one arched brow when his hip bumps into something equally bulging and hard between John’s thighs. He flushes, eyes still dark but not meeting his as steadily now, bouncing around. 

“It doesn’t have to be sex. I won’t tell a soul.”

“I know you’re lying.”

“Please.” John sounds almost _vulnerable_. “I need to--I’ve always wanted--”

Well, hell. Looks like he owes Adelaide and Sharky 20 bucks. Rook rolls his eyes, wriggles in place against before groaning when John latches on tighter like he thinks Rook’s going to brave the chill outside the covers just to get away. He’s not going flaccid, is unlikely to anytime soon with John pressed up against him, clinging like a limpet, and he has to admit it appeals. Not having to immediately deal with Jacob in addition to actually having an orgasm with someone else for the first time since he’s moved to Hope County?

Almost worth the guilt trip he’s going to eventually have to deal with when his subconscious decides to remind him he slept with a guy who literally peels people’s skin off.

“Come here. Take your boxers off and get on top of me.” Rook groans finally, pushing John’s thigh down to work on his button and zipper. 

It takes John so little time it’s almost laughable, all scrambling limbs and breathy “you won’t regret this,” so quick Rook has to hold him back with one elbow so he can shove his pants down around his thighs. John slips onto his lap nearly immediately afterward, leaning with his forearms on either side of Rook’s head on the pillow so the blanket doesn’t fall off after a shift makes both of them shiver. 

“This might not work.” Rook murmurs, rolling his hips into John’s weight with a grimace.

He can’t get a hand between them and John can’t sit up without freezing them both out. Maybe it’s a sign this is fucking stupid and they should both stop while they’re ahead. John seems to disagree, eyes going panic wide as he quickly mutters a “no, no, I know how, let me just--” and rolls back off of him. 

He pulls and tugs, hands greedy and grasping, until Rook rolls to face him. Throws a leg over his hip to open the space between them as John’s hands divert from his arms to wrap around his cock. Press it against his own in a grip just the right side of too tight. Rook makes a punched out noise, something that John echoes, on the first stroke, breath catching in his throat.

Shit. Something about this, be it John or the wrongness of the whole situation or the fact it’s been him and his hand for as long as he’s been here, is driving him up a wall. Ratcheting him tighter and tighter until every small stroke feels like it’s stealing the air from his lungs. 

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching out to cup a hand against John’s nape, pulling their foreheads together. “Yeah, just like--just like that.”

“I can make it good for you,” John promises him, keeping the pace, eyes too desperate to be believed. “I told you I could. You just had to let me--you have to let me in.”

Not gonna happen. Whatever fantasies John’s cooking up in his head are going to stay fantasies. Rook’s not about to trade his freedom and safety for a constant supply of sex, no matter how good John looks when he’s flushed and panting. 

But he’s willing to play along. For all he hates hearing John ramble on, there’s something appealing about the breathy quality of his voice right now. And Rook always did like a verbal partner in bed. 

“Yeah? You gonna be good for me, John? Gonna be so fucking perfect? Gonna make me come?”

“ _Yes_ ,” John breathes, pace quickening as it gets slicker, one of them leaking enough pre-come the slide doesn’t have near the friction it did at the start. “Yes, I’ll be so good. Be anything you want me to be. You just have to--only me. You have to be with me and no one else.”

“You jealous?” Rook shakes him slightly, like he’s a misbehaving dog. “That why you chased me into Jacob’s region? Didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on me, did you?”

“You’re _mine_.”

“For right now.” Rook allows, before John does something fantastic with his thumb over the leaking slit of his cock and something seizes in his stomach. “Fuck, m’close. You’re gonna make me come.”

John doesn’t talk anymore after that. Seems to put all his focus into twisting his wrist just right on the upstroke, dragging down with the right amount of pressure to make Rook see stars. He’s panting, clearly near the edge himself, body shaking near Rook’s in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature outside of the bed. He lunges forward with a soft whine, catches Rook’s mouth in a biting sort of kiss just as everything gets warm and wet between them. 

It’s enough. Rook didn’t know how badly he missed kissing, how badly he missed being this close to someone. He comes with a cry that John eagerly swallows up, pumping him until he’s shaking and slapping his hands away, oversensitive. He rolls onto his back, tries to catch his breath in the aftermath, and is utterly unsurprised when John plasters to his side once more. 

“Don’t think this changes things. I’m getting Hudson out of your bunker and I’m bringing the cult down in flames.”

“Mmhmm,” it says something about John that he’s yawning in the face of Rook’s threats, nuzzling into the side of his throat, and it’s nothing positive. “Yes, yes, you’ll spill your wrath all over this county and we will try to bring you to heel. For now, though, sleep.”

He shouldn’t sleep. Should probably remove himself from this situation entirely, go sleep on the rug in front of the fireplace. But John’s sleep warm, body lax against his side, and his heart is slowing to the relaxed pace that usually follows an amazing orgasm. Rook can feel his eyes slipping closed without his permission, without conscious thought, even as some part of him wants to stay awake.

What the hell. He already shared a bed with a cult Herald, let that same Herald work his cock until he was coming over both of them. In comparison? Sleeping cuddled up to one almost seems innocent. 

Rook’s certainly made worse decisions in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see what's coming next? Wanna see the (always subject to change) planned list for Kinktober? Check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


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